Back On the Hustle
Chapters (32)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Adriana Herrera
  3. Also by Adriana Herrera
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-One
  27. Chapter Twenty-Two
  28. Chapter Twenty-Three
  29. Chapter Twenty-Four
  30. Epilogue
  31. BPA
  32. Chapter One

“You needed it.” My heart suddenly kicked up in my chest, beating like a drum, but I made myself say it. “I like taking care of you.” I’d make it the sole purpose of my life, if you let me.

“That’s not exactly what you signed up for when you agreed to the friends with bennies thing.” I knew why she said that, she still didn’t believe anyone would want to put up with “her mess.” I’d just have to work harder at convincing her. I reached for her and she came, and that would have to be enough this morning.

“It was my honor and my privilege to do that for you,” I said between kisses. She melted in my arms. I could feel her hard nipples brushing my bare chest, and if I didn’t have a bunch of shit to do before we left for our trip, I’d fuck her right then. I pulled away and looked at her for a long beat, my thumb running over that pouty bottom lip. “Call your mom and then pack a bag. Enough for two days.”

She frowned then looked at the screen of my phone like that could provide answer. “A bag?”

“Yep.” I slid out of bed, then leaned over to squeeze the little sliver of upper thigh and ass visible from where her shirt had ridden up. “I’m taking you to Santa Fe.”

“Santa Fe?” She was so fucking cute.

“Yes, I have a house there, remember?” She’d been the one coordinating with the real estate broker.

“I thought it was an investment property.”

“It was, but not the kind of investment you thought it was.”

“What does that mean? We have to go back to the set.”

“Not until Monday,” I reminded her, which seemed to mollify her somewhat. “Call your mom, sweetheart,” I said in answer, already walking out of the room. “The jet will be waiting for us in two hours.”

I grinned when I heard a gasp followed by “What jet?”

The moment I walked out of the bedroom I dialed Cecilia’s number. My father had left me a dozen messages with escalating degrees of fury in the last sixteen hours and I had yet to deal with that.

“He’s getting over it,” Cecilia told me the moment she answered.

“Oh.” I had no idea what that meant, but also knew that if anyone could get my father to calm down it was her.